Chapter 1

I got put on blast online by a new intern who claimed the company was forcing employees to sacrifice their time off for mandatory team-building.

No one wants to drag themselves to some island to hang out with coworkers.

But what the internet didn't know was that our company's team-building tradition included:

An annual takeover of a five-star resort, all expenses paid, plus-ones welcome, with an additional three days of paid vacation and a per-person budget of $30,000.

Social media was roasting me as a heartless boss, so I decided to give them exactly what they wanted and sent out an announcement:

"In response to employee feedback and out of respect for personal time, this year's travel-based team-building is canceled and replaced with a $500 personal travel stipend."

The announcement dropped like a bomb. Long-time employees mobbed my office, begging me to bring back the Caribbean sun and sand.

I finalized this year's team-building plan with Lisa, our Administrative Director.

"Xavier, this is the one? A six-star island in the Maldives." Lisa's voice brimmed with excitement.

I nodded with satisfaction.

Years ago, in a cramped startup office barely 500 square feet, I'd made a promise to my team: "Someday, I'm taking all of you to the most beautiful places in the world for our victory celebration!"

I'd carried that promise for years.

I told Lisa: "Budget is $30,000 per person. Don't you dare cut corners. Also, give every participant three extra days of paid vacation. It has to be paid!"

Lisa closed her tablet with a smile. "Once this plan hits the company group chat, the whole place is going to explode."

Sure enough, after the announcement hit our 400-person company chat, it was instantly flooded with celebration emojis.

Marcus from Tech posted a family photo: "Perfect! I promised my daughter we'd go see sea turtles last year. Now I can finally make it happen!"

The newlyweds in Marketing were already discussing whether to turn it into their honeymoon.

The entire company basked in holiday-like joy.

I watched the endless stream of thank-you messages scrolling across my phone screen, feeling deeply satisfied.

Then some discordant notes jarred their way in.

From the new intern, Dylan Sanders.

He posted a link to some influencer's video ranting about pointless team-building, then added casually: "Wait, seriously? Companies still do mandatory travel in this day and age? I'd rather just stay home."

The lively chat froze instantly.

David, a department head, immediately jumped in to smooth things over: "Dylan just got here and doesn't understand yet. Our company's team-building is a premium benefit. You'd be crazy to skip it."

Another colleague chimed in: "Exactly. Some people would kill for this opportunity."

Dylan immediately replied with an eye-roll emoji: "Pass. Not interested. Don't want to waste my life pretending to bond with coworkers I barely know."

"If the boss really has this kind of money, why not just convert the team-building budget to cash? That'd be way more practical."

His words killed the conversation dead.

Several employees who'd been celebrating enthusiastically just moments ago quietly deleted their messages.

I even noticed a few anonymous profiles had briefly liked Dylan's comment, then hastily unliked it within seconds.

That afternoon, someone knocked on my office door.

Dylan.

He wore ripped jeans and carried a drink, showing absolutely no nervousness about facing the CEO. His silver-gray hair caught the light in a way that felt almost aggressive.

"Xavier, got a minute?" He jutted his chin forward and plopped himself onto the couch across from me without waiting for an answer, even crossing his legs.

"I think this whole company team-building thing is totally outdated. Young people nowadays believe in keeping work and life separate. You spend all this money forcing us together where we have to fake-smile at each other. It's exhausting."

He looked at me matter-of-factly, fingers absently playing with the headphones hanging around his neck. "It's emotional labor, you know? Why not just give us the cash directly? Win-win for everyone."

I watched his expression—like he was here to teach me about management—and found it both absurd and almost funny.

"The company's team-building is an honor trip for outstanding employees. It's collective recognition, not some benefit you can haggle over like you're at a flea market."

Dylan pursed his lips. "Fine, whatever. Pretend I said nothing."

He stood up and left, muttering under his breath, "So condescending. What a drag."

Near the end of the workday, I saw veteran employee Ryan bringing several younger employees over to Dylan's workstation.

Ryan was all smiles: "Dylan, we totally support your idea! You said what we were all thinking! Don't worry, we've got your back if anything happens!"

Dylan raised an eyebrow smugly and lowered his voice: "Don't worry, Ryan. Watch me work."

Then I saw Dylan pull out his phone and snap a photo of his computer screen.

He turned the camera on himself, his face instantly switching to an expression of utter misery, complete with a gray filter.

His lips moved silently, mouthing "Help me!"

My heart sank.